


song for the julian calendar

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf), let_it_be_extraordinary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Raising Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_it_be_extraordinary/pseuds/let_it_be_extraordinary
Summary: Sirius Black was ready to go murder Peter Pettigrew until he realised that Harry had survived the attack on Godric's Hollow. He was Harry's godfather, and why should he let Dumbledore overrule the Potters' will?





	1. nowhere else to go

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone I have ever spoken to is a hero for reading this and letting me talk about it and then reading the drafts for the zillionth time. I have 22k of this written, so hopefully will be posting more once I'm done with the edits! Special mention goes to Eva, Chiara, Kit, Zoe, Sarah and Maggie for their help. <3 
> 
> Title from the Mountain Goats.

Sirius had tried to spend Halloween forgetting that three of his friends were in hiding and the other might have sold them all out to Voldemort, but it wasn’t working. The Muggle gay clubs in Charing Cross were as far as he could possibly get from the war, but he couldn’t shake the itch that something was wrong. Nothing helped—not the alcohol or the loud music thrumming through his bones or the quickie with some nameless bloke in the bathroom. Eventually he had to admit defeat—but checking on Peter would help, surely? He could reassure himself that all was well, and either go back out or just surrender to sleep and hope November was better.

He shivered as he stood in the corridor outside Peter’s flat: clothes that had been comfortable in a mass of sweaty moving bodies were definitely not suited to the nippy October night. Peter didn’t answer when he knocked in the agreed two quick, three slow pattern. Sirius knocked again. The door didn’t look forced; nothing looked wrong at all from the outside. Nevertheless, Sirius had his wand out and his heart was beating too quickly as he unlocked the door and called out, “Wormtail?”

It was empty. The small, dingy flat still had signs of occupation—Peter had left the bed unmade, there was a mug next to the sink, various other things scattered across the floor and furniture he could see. Peter was not meant to leave the flat. Sirius brought him food and anything else he needed (in fact, Sirius was the only person Peter saw, since the rest of the Order was still under the impression Sirius was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper—but that was only temporary, he knew that, just for the first week or so, until they had a better idea of who to trust). There was no sign of a struggle, and Sirius felt something cold running down his back and pooling in his stomach. Something had gone horribly wrong.

He didn’t dare think about what he might be travelling towards as he flew on his bike from London to the West Country, because thinking it would make it real. He’d get to Godric’s Hollow and everything would be fine. He’d let James and Lily know that Peter was missing, but it would turn out that Peter had been just desperate to see anything but those four walls and would be back in the flat by morning. He’d be at the pub or visiting his mum. They would all laugh about it once it was over. They’d tease Sirius that he had overreacted and everything would be—

His stomach dropped when he saw the Dark Mark in the sky. He knew which house it would be over, and the minutes he had to spend flying towards it felt like time had stopped. His body belonged to someone else as he climbed off the bike and forgot to put the kickstand down, so it fell over when he let go. He didn’t hear it fall, too transfixed by the sight in front of him.

The sickly green glow gave off just enough to make the scene look unreal, the house lights having extinguished when the casters (the Potters, his _friends_ ) died. Part of the second storey had been destroyed by some kind of explosion, the new outline looking like an open wound, jagged and dangerous. The front door was open and Sirius didn't understand why until he tripped over something lying on the threshold and lit his wand, turning away in time to vomit into the pram they still kept by the door, despite never going out anymore.

James—the body of James—was holding the door open. Two years ago, he might have checked to see if he had just been stunned, but in the last twelve months he had seen enough dead bodies to know. He knew he should close James’s eyes, at least, or rearrange his body or _something_ , but he couldn’t bear to look, so he moved further into the house instead. Vomiting hadn't helped the nausea at all and he swallowed back bile as he heard movement from upstairs, his wand out and stance changed before he consciously thought about doing it.

It was Hagrid, though, which was so unexpected Sirius just froze. He stood there, mouth slightly open, for a moment before Hagrid came downstairs and pulled him into a hug. He heard him mutter something about Sirius being white as a sheet and him being sorry and best friends and he just tuned it out and focused on the physical sensations of the hug because otherwise he was going to fall apart.

Even though he'd had time between seeing the Dark Mark from his motorbike and being crushed against the coat of a half-giant to consider the context of two of his best friends being dead, his brain had been filled with white noise and he hadn't thought of the _how_ , considering there had been no sign of a struggle. The hug seemed to clear his brain somewhat and he had his mouth open to say he was off to kill Peter Pettigrew when there was a noise from upstairs.

"Ah, that'll be little Harry, then," said Hagrid, as if it was normal and established that small babies survived attacks that left accomplished wizards dead.

"Harry? He's still alive?" Sirius asked, brain still feeling like his thoughts were moving through treacle. He'd had it explained to him that it was Harry that Voldemort had been after, so he didn't understand how Voldemort had killed everyone _but_ him.

"Yeah, Dumbledore said it was him that stopped him! You Know Who, I mean. Didn' explain how, an’ he just Apparated away ten minutes ago, 'spose ter do important stuff, but I'm here ter keep him safe an’ then deliver him ter—”

"Wait, I'm his legal guardian. I'm his godfather," Sirius said, and then backtracked, thinking he had misheard. "What do you mean stopped him?"

"You-Know-Who's gone, he blew up, I think. Dumbledore wasn' very clear, ter be honest. He did say tha' I had ter get Harry ter Surrey tomorrow, though."

"I—” He wanted to ask whether there was a body, whether they knew he was gone for good, whether that meant the war was over, but instead he concentrated on the baby he could now hear upstairs. “It's in Prongs'-- it's in James' will. He updated it before he went into hiding, if he and Lily die, I have custody of Harry. I can get you the notarised copy from the Ministry if you want. I’m taking him."

Something moved to Sirius’s left and he had his wand up again before he realised it was just the cat. Minerva (James thought it was hilarious; Lily thought it was disrespectful, and tried to just refer to ‘the cat’, but he had heard her refer to ‘Minnie’ when she thought nobody was listening) rubbed against his calf, twisting through his legs to scent-mark him more thoroughly. Sirius lowered his wand and tried to focus for a moment on the familiar feeling: if not for the cold breeze whistling through the open door, this could be any time in the Potters’ house when Minnie decided that the best way to show her affection was to make it as difficult as possible for him to move without falling flat on his face. It didn’t work—the wind made him shiver and there was the faint smell of something burnt on the air.

Hagrid looked like he had not expected this challenge to Dumbledore's authority, which, well...Sirius thought that Dumbledore's authority rarely got questioned. But Harry was all Sirius had left—all that was left of Lily and James. James' ridiculous hair, even now, and Lily's eyes. Sirius couldn't have that taken away from him too, not by Dumbledore—Dumbledore had suggested the Fidelius Charm, and it had failed, and it was Dumbledore's fault they had died, and Dumbledore—why would Dumbledore know better than Sirius what was right for Harry? Sirius hadn't raised a baby, but as far as he knew neither had Dumbledore, and at least he had _known_ James and Lily, known them properly.

"I think I should still bring him ter Dumbledore—he has a plan for him, got him a place ter stay, I'm sure he's got it all worked out," Hagrid said, and if he sounded a little uncertain to Sirius's ears, it might have just been wishful thinking.

"I'm not leaving him to Dumbledore." Sirius knew he should trust Dumbledore—and yet there was something he couldn't place, some instinct that told him the speed with which he had organised this was suspicious. How long could it have been since Voldemort had murdered Lily and James? Hours? Had he known it would happen? And where was he taking him? Sirius didn't live in Surrey, nor did anyone he knew. Minerva realised she was not getting the kind of attention she desired and wandered off into the kitchen.

Hagrid looked uncertain and there was an uncomfortable silence between them for a few moments before Harry cried and they both started for the stairs.

"I've got it," Sirius said as he ducked under Hagrid's broad arm and turned towards Harry’s room, picking his way through some rubble because the explosion that had ripped through the house seemed to have come from the nursery. He stopped at the doorway. One of the walls was missing completely, blown outwards, making the room much colder than it had been downstairs. Lily's body had fallen in front of the cot, as if—he crouched and closed Lily's eyes, putting a hand against her cheek for a moment as Harry quieted at the sight of him. Even if his stomach turned just at the thought of doing the same for James downstairs, he could give Lily this respect.

Voldemort's body wasn't there, and Sirius didn't know whether he wanted to kick Voldemort's corpse in the face or if he was glad it was absent. After an age he stood up, picking Harry up out of his cot and turning towards the door where Hagrid was watching, tears rolling down his face and into his beard. "I'm Harry's guardian," Sirius said, Harry on his hip, "but if you want I will come with you to Dumbledore to tell him what I think of his _plan_." Harry was usually pulling at his hair by now (Lily had always laughed at him when it happened), but he seemed to just be patting at it. Sirius tried not to let it worry him.

Hagrid sagged a little and nodded, holding his hands out for Harry, but Sirius didn't hand him over.

"What about James and Lily?" Sirius said as he found a bag and started looking through drawers, packing nappies and onesies and grabbing the blanket and the toys out of the cot. The broom he had bought Harry just a few months ago was against the wall and he hesitated before packing that too, trying not to think about it.

"I don' know, I was only told ter take care of Harry an’ bring him ter Surrey tomorrow night," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "I guess someone'll come collect them?"

Sirius knew that Harry was alive and needed him more than Lily and James but he didn't want to leave his best friends, their ruined house, and he resolved to find someone to send their bodies to the morgue at St Mungo's. He'd organise Order members to salvage their belongings, and he didn't know how they would protect the scene from Muggles, but they had a few hours before anyone woke up. At least it wasn’t raining.

There were plastic containers of food in the fridge, neatly labelled in Lily’s handwriting, though Sirius knew James had cooked them. He packed them, too, hoping they were things Harry would eat. Minnie reappeared, and Sirius realised they would have to take her as well—she had done nothing to deserve a life on the streets or in the pound. Her carrier was in the living room and she mercifully went inside without argument. Sirius tried not to think that she knew there was nothing left for her here.

"I don't know whether it's safe to Apparate with a baby—I don't know if I even can Apparate right now," Sirius said, "so we can take my bike, and we'll stop at the Longbottoms on the way, I need to tell them to...to send Prongs and Lily to the morgue and get their belongings and secure the scene so the Muggles won't start investigating it." He waited until Hagrid nodded before saying, "You can drive, I'll just transfigure a sidecar, I won't fit behind you."

It took him three tries before he could create a serviceable sidecar from Lily’s least favourite garden gnome, too shaken, but he managed something that would do and strapped himself in, holding Harry against his chest and tucking him under his jacket. The bag he had packed was in the sidecar’s tiny boot, but Minnie was at his feet—he didn’t want her seeing how high up they were, but he didn’t have the heart to shut her up in the pitch-black without any idea what was going on.

As they rose into the sky, using the cover of darkness since the cloaking spells didn't cover the sidecar, Sirius felt a sound that wasn't really a laugh come out of his throat, jagged and harsh. Lily had always joked that the bike was his child just as Harry was theirs, and he never let anyone else drive it. Yet here they were.

Harry fell asleep as they were flying over Bristol, following the motorway.


	2. on the day that i forget you (i hope my heart explodes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eva for telling me to get rid of the useless scene that used to be at the beginning of this chapter <3 (perhaps I will post it as an outtake, hmm...)

The only safe place was Hogwarts, and the place where Dumbledore lived was Hogwarts, so Hogwarts was where they went. They tried to stay in cloud cover over Inverness (they had wildly underestimated the time it would take, and were nowhere near clear of civilisation by the time the sun rose) but Sirius suspected there would be some UFO headlines the next day in the local papers. At first Sirius had kept his attention on Hagrid in case he turned towards Surrey, but it didn't happen, and as they reached the mountains Sirius began to realise that he had last eaten over twelve hours before and had been awake for over twenty-four.

He felt like his eyelids were sandpaper and his brain felt sluggish, his body alien. Harry had been asleep from Bristol until Inverness and they'd stopped to feed him as soon as it was safe but he'd fallen asleep again and Sirius didn't know if one-year-olds were meant to sleep for this long all in one go—Lily would know. Lily had read so many books, and Sirius knew nothing.

They finally reached the gates around mid-morning and Sirius stumbled out of the sidecar, falling as soon as he tried to step out on legs that were completely stiff and numb. He managed to roll slightly so Harry didn't hit the ground but gave him to Hagrid when he crouched down, closing his eyes before trying to stand again. Nothing felt quite real.

Harry immediately started pulling on Hagrid’s beard, and something in Sirius’s chest relaxed at the sight of Harry acting normal. Sirius's schadenfreude at Hagrid’s wince was unreasonable, but — so was everything that had happened since he’d left school. Minnie he left in the sidecar: the carrier had self-replenishing water rigged up to it by the Potters, but he hadn’t managed to work out a way to feed her, and didn’t want to lose her on Hogwarts grounds. He had been in the Forbidden Forest often enough to know that there were some things in there no cat would want to meet.

There were students lounging around the grounds in mufti — it was a Sunday, Sirius realised with a shock. Time felt like it shouldn't be passing, but the rest of the world was continuing on — the rest of the world hadn't stopped, and in fact weren’t afraid for their lives all the time. As they got near the Entrance Hall, students came up to them, excited and happy to be out in the sunshine. Sirius blinked owlishly at a tall Chinese girl who knew his name until she said, "I'm Melissa, you know, Chaser, we played together three years ago?" Sirius nodded, still feeling like this was all happening to someone else. School felt decades ago. "Is it true, someone heard this morning at breakfast that You-Know-Who was gone. Is the war over?"

As soon as she said it, Sirius felt the noise around them rise as everyone clamoured for an answer. He nodded and a cheer went up, people hugging — Melissa tried to hug him, but he twisted away and walked into the Entrance Hall, leaving the students who were celebrating the deaths of his best friends on the other side of heavy wooden doors.

Which was where he discovered Dumbledore wasn't even at Hogwarts.

Flitwick was heading for the grounds as Sirius and Hagrid were going up the staircase (Sirius had never felt like the stairs were so insurmountable). "Minister Bagnold called an emergency Wizengamot meeting, so Albus is attending that — I imagine you could contact him by contacting the Ministry, perhaps?" Hagrid thanked him for the help, after a pause where Sirius just stared into the middle distance. He knew the standard method of Order communication, patronuses, wouldn't work because he couldn't produce a patronus if his life depended on it.

He ended up walking straight to McGonagall's office on muscle memory, but she wasn't there either, and when Harry started crying, wailing for his mum, he cried too, slumping against the wall. Hagrid said something about being back, but Sirius didn't care anymore. He wanted to be safe; he wanted his best friend back; he wanted — he wanted to be sixteen again.

 

* * *

 

The summer he left home was the best summer of his life. He was finally free of his family and he lived with the Potters, so he saw Prongs all the time. They couldn’t ignore the war at Hogwarts, but here, in the country, both safely pureblood, it seemed to pause. They only read the sports pages in the _Prophet_ and pretended nothing was wrong.

The Potters adopted him, treated him like a second son, and one afternoon when they were at work Sirius and Prongs had been playwrestling and someone had popped a stiffy — Sirius couldn't even remember who, and he needed to remember every moment of Prongs, but it was already slipping—

One of them popped a stiffy and it just...made sense to help out. It went from trading handies to kissing to blowjobs but where Sirius wanted it to be real, sometimes Prongs would wonder aloud afterwards if Lily would be as good at it as Sirius was. This was just a placeholder until they met girls and had proper relationships. It was...It was fine.

Sirius figured he would rather have this than ruin it by telling Prongs the truth. And they were still best mates, just best mates who touched each others' dicks. (And then cuddled afterwards. The cuddling, according to James, was compulsory — he had made it a rule in First Year that he had to hug Sirius at least once a day, and apparently the rule had been upgraded to once an orgasm as well.)

The summer felt like it would never end, and even at the time Sirius wanted to live in it forever.

 

* * *

 

Professor Flitwick was jogging behind Hagrid when Sirius next opened his eyes. Harry was still crying, and Sirius was ashamed enough of how he'd broken down that he rummaged in Harry's bag for one of the plastic containers of food he had found in the fridge. Everything seemed to be too fiddly, the containers mostly containing curry, so he gave Harry a rice cake instead, which gave him something to do instead of crying, at least. He’d go down to the kitchens to get him some food as soon as he’d sorted things out with Dumbledore.

“I’ve contacted Albus — he should be in his office,” Professor Flitwick said, panting slightly with the effort of taking three steps for every one Hagrid took.

“Thanks,” Sirius said, wiping his face with his sleeve before picking Harry up. “I—thanks,” he said, after a pause, because he didn’t know how to excuse what had just happened. Flitwick didn’t look like he needed an explanation, just smiled sadly at him and led them up to Dumbledore’s office.

“Spangles,” he said, and the gargoyles parted. “I’ll leave you here. I’m…” Flitwick paused, his face more sorrowful than Sirius had ever seen it. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he finished finally, before leaving them to go up the spiral staircase.

Sirius would have walked straight in, but Hagrid knocked and Dumbledore’s voice bade them entry before Sirius could do anything.

Dumbledore looked like he had eaten in the past fifteen hours. He looked like he had even napped. Sirius loathed him and how he looked barely ruffled.

“I must say, Sirius, I’m surprised you’ve brought the boy to me, instead of your master,” he said calmly as Sirius walked in.

Sirius stopped short and stared at Dumbledore in utter confusion, not knowing what the headmaster meant by that. He clutched Harry to his chest. He didn’t know what was going on or what Dumbledore was implying, but he also had a bad feeling about where this was going. Behind Dumbledore, he could see Hagrid eyeing him with confusion –- but what now also looked like suspicion after Dumbledore’s words.

“What?” he asked in unison with Hagrid, who looked as confused as Sirius felt.

Dumbledore fixed him with a pointed stare from behind his half-moon spectacles. “You were James and Lily’s Secret-Keeper,” Dumbledore said sharply.

Sirius paled, and his eyes widened. The accusation was apparent now and the thing was: Sirius could understand it. No one was supposed to know he wasn’t the Secret-Keeper. That was the point; and how the bloody hell was he supposed to prove he hadn’t been?

Before Sirius knew what was happening, Dumbledore had his wand pointed at Sirius. He instinctively tried to shield his godson’s body with his own.

“It wasn’t me!” he gasped out. “I swear,” he looked imploringly at Hagrid, who looked about five seconds from breaking him in half with his bare hands, “I would never… James is… James was… He’s my best friend. AND YOU’RE POINTING YOUR BLOODY WAND AT HIS SON!”

 _”Legilimens,”_ Sirius heard before the room disappeared and he felt like he was in that Muggle cinema he and the rest of the Marauders had been to once, watching memories flicker before his eyes — Prongs’ body as he lay unstaring at his front door; a week ago, getting sucked off in a cottage; the last time he had seen Moony, both of them silently eating overcooked pasta, what felt like a solid barrier between them —

 

* * *

 

_”Everyone knows you would pick me as your Secret-Keeper,” Sirius is saying, standing in the Potters’ living room in Godric’s Hollow. Lily and Prongs are sitting on the sofa, pressed together as if they’re two halves of a whole, and something in Sirius aches. “I’m the obvious choice. It’s too dangerous, they’ll know — and with my family, I can’t promise you I’m completely safe. I’d die rather than give you away, but they might be able to find me easier than someone else because we’re blood relatives.”_

_“But we trust you more than anyone,” Lily says, much quieter than Sirius. They had told him Harry was asleep, but his voice was too loud and he couldn’t make it softer — it felt like he couldn’t control that anymore._

_“I know, but the best case scenario is that they find me and I die before I can give you away, but I can’t — I can’t promise, you know I can’t, the Cruciatus Curse is unpredictable. I might not be able to kill myself before they—”_

_“You can’t kill yourself,” Prongs says, his voice cracking, and Sirius looks from Lily to see him looking horrified._

_“Look, you should use Peter. No one will suspect it — no one can torture it out of him if they would never imagine it’s him. I can survive the Cruciatus as long as I don’t know anything, don’t you understand? I can’t risk it otherwise. I can’t risk you.”_

_In the silence, Harry begins to stir upstairs. No one moves._

_“This is the safest way,” Sirius says, and finally his voice is quiet, gentle. “Please, Prongs, Lily, you both know it’s true.”_

_“I—” Prongs says, but falls silent, thinking. Lily bites her lip and meets Sirius's eyes, giving a small nod. “Alright,” Prongs says at last. “You’re — you’re right. I mean, you — we have to keep you safe, too.”_

_“It’s not about my—”_

_“Yes it is,” Lily interrupts, reaching out to put a hand on Sirius's arm. “We’re not the only ones who matter, you do as well. If not in some far-reaching prophecy way, then at least to us.”_

_“You’re family,” Prongs says, “and I would never want — please don’t die, Sirius.”_

_“I’ll try not to.” Sirius looks at the wall behind Prongs instead of at him because they both know he can’t promise anything. A series of photos hang there: the Marauders waving in front of the Hogwarts Express the last time they set foot on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters; Sirius putting his finger to his lips as he goes to pour a cup of ice cubes down Prongs’ back at his stag do, foam antlers slightly lopsided on Prongs’ head; a photo Sirius himself had taken in this very room, James and Lily oblivious to the camera, curled towards each other._

_“Thank you for pointing out the flaw in the plan,” Lily says._

_Sirius opens his mouth, but upstairs Harry begins to cry. “I’ll just — I’ll. I’ll go. If Peter’s Secret-Keeper, then it’s safe for me to know, so you can get him to tell me once you’ve done it.”_

_“Yeah,” James says, absently. The sound from upstairs pauses for a moment, and then resumes with renewed enthusiasm._

_“I love you both,” Sirius says, picking his jacket up from where he had left it on a chair. “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”_

_“I love you too, Padfoot,” James says, bringing him in for a hug. James isn’t the sort who is fond of back-slapping; he just hugs tightly, his breath tickling against Sirius's ear._

_“We’ll see you next week,” Lily says as she hugs him, kissing him on the cheek. “I should — I should definitely go see what’s up with Harry.”_

_“Yeah, see you,” Sirius says, waving as he heads out the door._

_It’s the 27th of October, and Sirius never sees them alive again._


	3. like a mobius strip

When the room returned, Sirius's face was wet with tears. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he felt like his knees would buckle if he didn’t sit down, so he collapsed into one of the chairs facing Dumbledore’s desk, putting Harry down in the other one. Harry immediately reached for some delicate and expensive-looking instrument on the desk, and whether it was out of spite or exhaustion, Sirius didn’t make a move to stop him. Dumbledore looked paler, Sirius thought, now that he had learnt he was wrong.

“I...I see,” he said. Sirius waited, expecting more, but Dumbledore did not continue.

“So he’s tellin’ the truth?” Hagrid asked, and Sirius jumped slightly — he had forgotten Hagrid was there.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Peter Pettigrew was the Secret-Keeper. Well, it wasn’t Sirius, at any rate.”

“But he was their friend! He hung around wi’ you at school, didn’ he?” Hagrid said, frowning and looking between Dumbledore and Sirius.

“Yeah,” Sirius said quietly, looking at the knots in the wood of Dumbledore’s desk. “He did.”

“Yuck,” Harry said loudly. Apparently the delicate instrument didn’t taste very good. Sirius glanced quickly to make sure he hadn’t put it back in his mouth (he had had the lecture about choking hazards from both Lily and James on separate occasions) but turned away once he saw Harry drop it on the floor with a tinkle that indicated some part of its fancy innards had smashed. Harry stood up on the chair so he could reach something else, but Sirius's attention shifted when Dumbledore spoke. 

“I’m going to send him to his aunt and uncle, as his only living family, tonight. He can grow up there,” Dumbledore said. Sirius frowned, confused — James was an only child, which left — surely not.

“Petunia?” he said, horrified. “She would hate him! Lily and James would never want Harry to live with her, she’s — she’s absolutely horrid, she wouldn’t come to the wedding and _you_ didn’t see Lily crying about it. She didn’t get an invite to Petunia’s wedding, even — she only found out when Petunia changed her name in her Christmas card. She hates magic, she hates Lily and Lily wouldn’t even repeat the racial slurs she called Prongs — you can’t.”

“It’s the safest place for him. Voldemort’s followers will be after him until the Ministry can get them all behind bars, and he wouldn’t be able to have a normal childhood if he lived in the Wizarding world — everyone will know his name, he’ll be famous. The Boy Who Lived,” Dumbledore said, seeming completely unaffected by Sirius's outburst. 

“No. I’m his guardian — it’s in their will.” Sirius's jaw clenched and he finally looked up and met Dumbledore’s eyes, which reminded him of all the times he had been reprimanded and pushed it until he’d got detention — the warning was the same in Dumbledore’s face, but it just made him angrier. He had never met Petunia, but nothing good could come of Harry living with her, he was sure of it. 

“In these circumstances, especially considering the danger Harry will be in, I do still think it would be best—”

“No! You weren’t even going to ask me. You were just going to ignore their will completely, give Harry to a family that _loathe_ him, and — what gives you the right to do that? I can love him and tell him about his parents and show him photographs and he can — he can at least grow up _loved_. I don’t know if I’ll be able to give him a normal childhood, but I’ll bloody well try.”

“And how would you keep him safe? The wards on the house you share with Remus Lupin are not adequate when you consider how Voldemort’s followers will react to the news of his death at Harry’s hand. They couldn’t be made adequate, either — being hidden safely away in the Muggle world is his only chance.” Dumbledore, of course, didn’t address how he had disregarded the wishes of the Potters, but Sirius wasn’t surprised. Dumbledore only seemed to acknowledge rules when it suited him.

“I’ll—” Sirius stopped, worried that Dumbledore had pointed out the one major flaw in his plan. He had pictured taking Harry back to the terrace, Dumbledore was right, but the wards wouldn’t hold up against that kind of fury. “What if we stayed here? In Hogwarts. Maybe just until all the Death Eaters are in Azkaban — until it’s safer. I could pay rent, I’d live in a broom cupboard if you made me, I just don’t — I don’t want to lose him.” Harry was all he had left, and his voice cracked on the last word as he saw, once again, James’ face in the doorway.

Dumbledore was silent for what felt like an eternity, before saying, “I...I think that might work. You would need some kind of cover story, of course, and Harry would need to be disguised — probably transfiguration, since it would be exceptionally difficult to get an infant to drink Polyjuice Potion…”

“They could live with me, Professor,” Hagrid said. “I mean, me hut’s a bit small, but I’m sure I could move things around.”

“We could build extra rooms so we weren’t encroaching on Hagrid’s space,” Sirius said, part of him feeling like he wanted to cry with gratitude towards Hagrid. “I mean, I’d need to do a refresher on some of the spells, but that shouldn’t be a problem, and I’ll pay for any materials.”

“Alright. We can get that sorted tomorrow — for now, food and a well-deserved rest, I think.”

Sirius felt the force of exhaustion slam into him like something physical as the fight ebbed out, so he picked up Harry, who had been concentrating hard on covering everything he could reach in ink he had found on the desk, and followed Dumbledore downstairs.

 

Sirius had a moment of something approaching happiness as he woke up before everything came back to him — he was sleeping in a disused classroom in Hogwarts, James and Lily were dead, Peter had betrayed them to Voldemort, Dumbledore had wanted to make Harry live with Petunia—

Sirius sat up so quickly his head swam before he remembered that Harry was just being babysat by Hagrid while Sirius caught up on sleep. He had no idea what time it was — the classroom had no windows, and his watch proclaiming eleven o’clock didn’t help enlighten him as to whether it was nearly midnight or nearly lunch.

Someone had put a glass of water, an apple and a clean set of robes next to his transfigured bed while he slept, and he downed the glass in one and changed before starting on the apple. He had to check they hadn’t sent Harry to Surrey after all, and probably check with Frank about — about the bodies, and get Harry’s things and put the rest in storage, either for when he felt like he could go through them or at least for when Harry was older. 

It all felt so overwhelming: Sirius had never lived alone, and even at school he’d never had complete responsibility for _everything_. The professors knew the Marauders pooled schoolwork but it was always in the right handwriting and they couldn’t detect any obvious plagiarism, so they’d let it be. 

Dumbledore never sent him on solo Order missions — said they were for people who had been out of school at _least_ five years, with that twinkle in his eye as if he were making a hilarious joke, but mostly just reminded Sirius how he’d never known what life was like outside of wartime. 

Remus’ secret missions had never been for more than a week or so until the spy started leaking things, so even then it hadn’t _felt_ like he was alone: he could leave a pile of post for Remus to open or make a mental note to ask Remus to deal with something when he was back (except as the months went on, it devolved to a stony silence and the house falling to pieces around them — and perhaps that was the closest to alone Sirius had been yet, but when it got too much he’d just lose himself in the filthy bathroom of some dingy Charing Cross establishment).

Sirius had never been alone, and it terrified him. He couldn’t escape now — he was in hiding, for one, and he had a _baby_ that was his sole responsibility. He didn’t know anything about babies! 

Just as he was working himself into hyperventilating about the rest of his life, the door opened and McGonagall walked in, looking satisfied to see him awake.

“Ah, Black, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up,” she said, and her briskness made Sirius think of the time in Seventh Year when Bellatrix had hexed him so badly he had ended up in the hospital wing for a week, regrowing his ear. McGonagall hadn’t quite seemed like she knew what to do when she called him into her office the day he was released other than offer him a biscuit and let him know she had made it clear to Slughorn that such egregious attacks on her students would not be tolerated. 

McGonagall, too, had known the Potters. Sirius didn’t want to know what he would see if he met her eyes, so he didn’t.

“You know me, Professor, I love sleeping in,” he said, but it sounded hollow and he couldn’t summon up the cheeky grin that belonged with the reference to Sixth Year Transfiguration being first thing Monday morning.

Sirius was grateful when McGonagall chose to ignore him. “I’m sure you’re hungry, you can get something to eat from the kitchens and then relieve Hagrid — I’m not sure how he’s coping with Harry, the poor boy has been crying for his parents for—” Sirius chose to extend McGonagall’s grace back to her and ignored the way her voice cracked, “—hours. You may at least be a familiar face.” She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again they were shining, so Sirius studied his shoes. “Is there anything you need?”

Sirius needed many things: his best friend back, the war over, a very stiff drink — but instead he said, “Remus. I — can you let me know when he’s back? He’s on one of Dumbledore’s secret missions, so he doesn’t know, and I’d — I’ve got things I’ve got to say to him.” Remus was the only person he had left, and he didn’t even know where he was — Remus might be dead too; he never talked about how dangerous the missions were, only came back with scratches like the ones he’d got in his first few years of transformations at Hogwarts, before they’d been able to ease them by keeping him company as Animagi. 

“Of course, I’ll let Albus know. And you can call me Minerva, you know, just not in front of students.”

“Thanks, Minerva,” he said, and the words stuck a little in his throat. They had all jokingly addressed her as Minnie to annoy her when they’d been at school, but even working in the Order they hadn’t been given explicit permission to use her first name. Was this what growing up felt like?

His journey to the kitchens was the usual after-curfew path — he didn’t want to encounter students who would undoubtedly ask questions, and all he saw was a group of First Years who were whispering but clearly too nervous to approach him. The House Elves had apparently been notified of his coming and had prepared a basket for him which included many of his favourite foods as well as fairly plain fare for Harry. 

The trick was to take it one step at a time: he would go rescue Hagrid, feed Harry, eat, entertain him for a few hours until his nap, when he could get architecture spellbooks from the library. It had been too long since their NEWT architecture module in Charms — his life post-school hadn’t exactly called for building things, more focused on destroying.

 

“Yeh needed that rest, then,” Hagrid said as he opened the door. There was some large glob of food (mashed potato?) in his beard that Sirius suspected wasn’t his fault, and he had tied back his hair, something Sirius had never seen him do. “Yeh look a bit better. Harry’s a big fan of Snuffles, though I’m not sure Snuffles is a big fan of him.”

When Sirius stepped inside he saw Harry standing, his hand on the side of a black and white boarhound. He was pulling on the dog’s ear as he said, “Gog, gog, gog.” Snuffles, to her credit, seemed resigned to her fate. Sirius remembered a much jumpier, smaller Snuffles in his early years at Hogwarts trailing after Hagrid, bumping into students occasionally and sometimes on purpose. She had seemed to like Wormtail better than the rest of them — but whether he should hold that against her or not, Sirius wasn’t sure. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, the cat appeared and rubbed against his leg again, and this time he bent down to give her the affection she deserved. She kept him between her and Snuffles, and Sirius hoped he wouldn’t have to mediate any properly vicious fights. Well, Snuffles wouldn’t be vicious, but he had no idea how Minnie was with dogs that weren’t him.

“Has Harry been alright?” Sirius said as he uncurled Harry’s fingers from Snuffles’ ear before picking him up. “Snuffles is an absolute angel to put up with that.” Harry resisted letting go of Snuffles, but once it became clear he could pull sharply on Sirius's hair and make his head jerk to the side, he concentrated completely on the opportunities before him. Sirius was not sure he would have any hair left if he kept fixating like this.

“He misses his parents, but I think he tired himself out an’ fell asleep fer a bit, an’ he’s been happier since then. I think Snuffles is goin’ deaf, or maybe she just doesn’t care in her old age. That cat o’ yours doesn’t like her, though, best keep an eye on that.”

Sirius felt a lump in his throat at the idea of Minnie being ‘his’ cat — it was true, and it wasn’t like he didn’t _want_ her but it was another reminder of how much his life was now a strange new world. He had never had a cat before: when James and Lily first got her, he kept coming to grief when he misread her body language.

“Sorry, I don’t think she’s met many dogs,” Sirius said, interrupted every few words by a tug on his hair. Hagrid was mercifully silent, but Sirius could see why he had tied his hair back now.

“Hey, Harry, do you want to show Hagrid how good you are on a broom? You’re gonna make the Gryffindor Quidditch team first year, aren’t you,” he said. In response, Harry hit him in the face. “Alright, let’s find your broom then.”

He had seen James and Lily do all sorts of things while effortlessly holding Harry on one hip, but he felt far too precarious. When Harry tried to grasp at Sirius's fingers around his middle, he tried to loosen them, but he was afraid of dropping him. They were — had been — the same age as him, and Harry was their first child, so why were they so much _better_ at this?

“Frank an’ Alice sent word this mornin’, they said they should have everythin’ packed up in boxes by tomorrow an’ it’ll all be at their place when you want to collect it,” Hagrid said as Sirius set Harry down so he could get the broom out of his bag. Sirius felt like a physical weight had descended on his shoulders: he would have to organise the funeral, and go through their things, and... he considered just not doing it — for a week, a month? But they deserved a funeral and Harry deserved more toys than the ones Sirius had grabbed without rhyme or reason.

“Thanks. I need to wait for Moony, though, at least for the funeral arrangements,” he said, wishing Remus had told him when he would be back. He never had even when they were on speaking terms, but it had got to the point where the only evidence that he’d left on a mission instead of disappearing into thin air was that those were the only days he made his bed before he left. 

“Understandable,” Hagrid said, and Sirius tried to stop thinking about it as he finally found the broom, calling out to Harry as he set it in the air.

“Can you get on by yourself? Do you want help?” Sirius said as Harry stumbled in his haste to reach the broom. Harry paused and his eyes seemed to roll upwards for a moment — but before Sirius could be sure of what he had seen it was over, and Harry was babbling and grabbing for the broom. He lifted Harry onto the broomstick and had his hand on his back, ready to steady him or catch him when Harry leant forward and almost flew right into the wall. Lily had not been exaggerating when she said they had had to keep an eye on him. “Woah, mate, let’s take it a bit slower, okay? Can you sit up a bit straighter?”

By the time Harry decided it was time to smear pesto pasta over half his face and the highchair Sirius had conjured for him, he was flying mostly in a straight line at a speed that didn’t make Sirius fear for his imminent demise. He considered that a success.


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s back! I was told to tell you he’s back,” Hagrid said, panting as he entered the hut. He had just come from dinner, and Sirius was halfway through reading _The Grumbliest Gryphon_ to Harry, but he dropped the book and looked around for his wand immediately.

“Who? Voldemort?” Hagrid flinched, but Sirius didn’t care, his breath harsh and fast and blood roaring in his ears. Grief had replaced the constant low-level terror since he had heard Voldemort was gone, but it slammed back like a punch to the gut, and it felt twice as bad for its momentary absence.

“No, no, Remus,” Hagrid said, looking horrified. “Sorry, Sirius, I didn’t — Professor McGonagall said you would want to know as soon as possible, so I — sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sirius said, willing his heart to stop racing. He felt slightly high on the rush of adrenaline, like his stomach had dropped out. “I’ll — I’ll just finish the book and then I’ll go see him.” Harry was asleep and had been since about page three, but it would give him something concrete and simple to do while his brain tried to process the fact that he wasn’t about to die.

When he reached their terrace, Sirius forced himself to check the wards, even as he was almost dancing with the nervous energy of needing to talk to Remus (talk properly for the first time in almost a year, since the whisperings about a spy began to gain traction). The wards were fine, so he jiggled the key just right in the lock, pulled the door towards him and then shoved sharply with his shoulder - nothing to do with the wards, just the ancient building presided over by a landlord who was more likely to evict you for breaking something than to fix it. (It had been a nuisance until people had started wanting them dead, and then became a boon.)

Before he had gone more than three steps, there was a burst of red light and his legs snapped together, making him overbalance and pitch forward. He reached out his arms to stop his head from hitting the floor and thin ropes twisted around his wrists. Fuck.

He expected a Death Eater, but there was Remus, standing over him when he rolled over. His wand was pointed at Sirius's heart, steady as a rock, but his voice shook with anger. “What did he give you?” Remus’ face was twisted into an expression Sirius had only ever seen on him once before — fury and pain and misery all directed at him. Before he could answer, Remus’ shoe connected with his ribs, though his wand was still aimed at him. Sirius knew as well as he did that a curse didn’t feel as cathartic as a kick or a well-delivered punch. Remus kicked again and again as he asked his next question, and Sirius felt his rib crack. “What was worth their lives? Worth betraying your friends?”

Part of Sirius wanted to take the beating — it was his fault; _he_ was the one who had convinced them to use Wormtail… no, Pettigrew (that filthy traitor didn’t deserve a Marauder’s nickname), but he wouldn’t be of use to Harry if died because of a ruptured spleen. He sucked in a breath, wincing at the sharp pain that it caused.

“I wasn’t the Secret-Keeper, Moony,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “it was Worm — Peter, “I-I convinced James and Lily to switch. I thought maybe… I thought they’d never think he’d be the Secret-Keeper. I-I was afraid they’d guess it was me and I’d break under torture. Please, Remus you have to believe me. D-Dumbledore knows.” 

He dropped his head onto the ground, feeling exhausted. He really should have expected this and been prepared to prove his innocence, but he hadn’t. Of course Remus would attack him on sight — everyone thinking he had been the Secret Keeper was the whole bloody point.

They stared at each other in silence, Sirius's shallow breaths loud in his ear, before Remus levitated him further into the sitting room, found his wand in his pocket, confiscated it, and then lowered him to the floor, perhaps more gently than he could have, given the circumstances. Remus then used the Floo to stick his head into Dumbledore’s office. Whatever Dumbledore said satisfied him, because thirty seconds later he had returned and not immediately murdered him.

“Shit,” he said softly as he flicked his wand at Sirius's wrists and then at his legs, the rope unfurling and the leg-locker disappearing. “I’m—”

“It’s fine,” Sirius said, unsure if he wanted to endure the pain of getting up. “I should have thought of it, I’m sorry, your actions were completely reasonable. I’d have done the same.” He couldn’t look Remus in the eye because they both knew he had suspected Remus — had thought about what he would do if he found proof. (There had been slightly more blood involved in his plan, which had mostly starred knives.)

Now that the opportunity for vengeance had disappeared, Remus deflated, collapsing into a chair, and Sirius was able to get a better look at him. There were bruises under his eyes as well as a nasty scratch across his cheek. When he put his head in his hands, Sirius could see there were more scratches there, like there always were after a full moon. His nail-biting habit had got worse, too, if the blood around his fingernails was anything to go by. There was more damage, Sirius was sure, underneath his jumper and jeans — things that would scar since they no longer had access to the Hogwarts hospital wing. Remus looked like he had aged a decade in the three years since they left school, unable to afford the potions and creams Madam Pomfrey had used on him.

Finally deciding the pain of getting up was worth it if it meant getting off the cold floor and making a cup of tea, he carefully and slowly righted himself, though he couldn’t help hissing in pain. Remus offered a hand but there was no point, so he shook his head. 

“I—you might have to go to St Mungo’s, I don’t want to make it worse,” Remus said, worrying at his lip. “I’ve got some Panadol, though, one sec.” He disappeared into the bathroom and by the time he returned with the box and a glass of water, Sirius had successfully lowered himself into a chair. 

“Next time, just kick me in the bollocks and have it over with,” he said, attempting a grin. He put one of the pills in his mouth and tried to swallow it with water, but just ended up coughing and spluttering, the pill unbearably bitter as it hit his tongue. Remus, for the first time, seemed to be fighting a smile as he got up.

“I forgot you need marshmallows to take medicine,” he said, taking down the jar he had labelled years ago jokingly as ‘SIRIUS’S BIG BOY PILLS’, since that was all they ever used marshmallows for. 

When he put the jar on the table, Sirius said, “While you’re up, make us a cuppa?” He pushed the pills into the middle of a marshmallow and tried again to swallow, this time succeeding.

“Of course,” Remus murmured, busying himself with putting the kettle on and getting mugs and teabags. Despite having come over specifically to talk to him, and despite Remus probably having just as much to say, no one spoke again until they were both seated once more, Sirius stirring an enormous amount of sugar into his mug. (“You know you can just eat the sugar,” Remus had said, more than once. “You’re an adult now, you don’t need the pretense of tea as a vehicle.”) If they didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t real and they could both pretend for a few more moments — as much as they could, anyway, when Remus had definitely just broken Sirius's ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said at last, staring into his tea. “I should’ve — it’s my fault, I should’ve known, I—” He fell silent again, finding it impossible to put the overwhelming weight of his guilt into words.

“None of us knew,” Remus said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Sirius had no idea whether Remus was looking at him. “I heard — people are saying that Harry survived, is it true?”

“Yeah, Dumbledore was going to make him live with Petunia.” Remus made a disgusted sound and Sirius nodded, still only looking at his tea. “It’s alright, I pointed out that I was his legal guardian and now I’m kind of… living in Hagrid’s hut? It’s temporary, it’s just — Hogwarts has the strongest wards in the country. Death Eaters will be looking for him. It’ll probably be a downsize, but how about it, Moony?”

“What?” Remus sounded so confused that Sirius actually looked at him — he was frowning at Sirius, clearly taken aback. 

“You living with us in Hagrid’s hut. I mean, it’s not like I can — you can’t afford the rent for this place by yourself, and this is already a shithole, so I shudder to think what you can afford,” he said, though they both knew the real answer was ‘some muddy patch underneath a bridge’. They also both knew that the money Sirius inherited was such that he could _buy_ a much nicer place, but Remus would want to pay him rent at least in the same galaxy as the rental market, which he would be unable to do. So they lived in this disaster instead. 

“But you’ve got Harry,” Remus said.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t live with a baby,” Remus said, his tone saying ‘you idiot, how could you have forgotten’. Sirius had no idea what it was his idiot self had forgotten.

“... Why not?”

“I’m a werewolf, you wally.” Remus was back to staring into his tea, his ears pink with shame.

“You’re not going to be a werewolf in the house, it’ll be just like at school. I mean, it’ll be a bit of an arse to get past the Whomping Willow without — without Pettigrew, but we’ve done it before. Hagrid can probably babysit Harry, so that won’t be a problem.”

“How long are you planning to live at Hogwarts?”

Sirius shrugged. “Until the Death Eaters are in Azkaban? Then it’ll be safe for Harry to be out in the world.”

“They’ve been trying to catch Death Eaters for years! If they haven’t caught them in the last ten years, it might take another ten.”

Sirius paused to consider. “It might be easier now that Voldemort’s gone, though.”

“Maybe,” Remus admitted. “But how are you going to hide a baby on Hogwarts grounds? Children of Death Eaters go to Hogwarts too.”

“Transfigure him a bit? Dunno, haven’t got that far. I mean, I gave him blue eyes and curly hair yesterday, but I should probably change the shape of his face or something.”

“That doesn’t hide the fact that he’s a baby, just that he’s Harry Potter. Have you ever seen a baby at Hogwarts?” 

“...No, but there’s a first time for everything, I guess? Dumbledore’s okayed it.” Sirius did not see why this was taking so long. He had thought that once they’d established that he wasn’t the Secret-Keeper, the visit would be quick — either he would be told in no uncertain terms that Remus never wanted to speak to the accessory to the murder of two of his best friends again, or he could come join them. Either way, one benefit of being fairly skint was that they didn’t have an enormous amount of possessions.

“It’s too dangerous, Death Eaters aren’t idiots, they’ll figure it out.”

“Then… then let’s lie low on the continent for a bit. Iceland? I’ve always wanted to go to Iceland. Their alphabet’s way more fun than ours.”

“I’m still a fucking werewolf, Padfoot, that hasn’t changed in the last five minutes.”

“Look, I — do you not want to live with me? You can just say that instead of—” he gestured in the air in a circular motion, “—this. I know things have been shit the last few months but — I mean, fuck, the war is over. The war’s _over_.”

“Of course I want to live with you!” Remus shouted. “As you so delicately pointed out, I literally cannot afford a roof over my head without leeching off you. But Harry would be better off without me, and even if the war _is_ over, I’m still a werewolf at the end of it! I was a werewolf before it began and I’ll stay one until I finally fucking _die_.”

His words seemed to echo in the tiny room. Sirius's knuckles were white around the handle of his mug.

“You’re not leeching off me,” Sirius began, quietly. “You’re my friend. This is what friends do, they help each other. I didn’t have a knut to my name until Uncle Alphard died, so I leeched off Prongs, didn’t I?”

“That’s different. You — you stopped leeching off him. It was just until you got on your feet. I’ll — I’ll never get better.” Remus was back to staring at his tea instead of at him, and part of Sirius desperately wanted to gather him into a hug until he stopped thinking he was so worthless, except he was still having trouble snatching breaths, let alone hugging.

“Moony, you’re acting like this is all news to me, like I’ve never met a werewolf before. We literally became Animagi for you, how much more proof do you want? I’m not saying you’d be a kept man, just…” Sirius closed his eyes and saw Prongs lying in the doorway. “Please. I’m afraid of doing this alone.”

Sirius snuck a glance and Remus — he was looking back. They both looked away as soon as their eyes met.

Scrubbing at his cheeks with his sleeve, Remus finally said, “Well, how are we going to explain being at Hogwarts? There aren’t any teaching positions open. And we can’t — we can’t live together with a _baby_ , what will people think? We’re both twenty-one, at least, but Dumbledore will be flooded with letters about moral corruption.”

“Twenty-one? Ooh, I didn't know this proposition came with buggery, Moony, you spoil me.” Remus gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Well I wasn't going to bring anyone home, we have a baby now!” The look, if anything, became more forceful, as much as a non-physical thing could. Remus’ eyebrow threatened to migrate directly off his face into his hair. 

“Two men raising a baby with no woman in sight. It doesn't matter how much buggery doesn't happen, we'll be eaten alive.”

“What if… what if I was Padfoot all the time? You could be a Ministry researcher studying the Forbidden Forest and your wife tragically died in the war, leaving you alone with a baby. Nobody needs know there’s a dirty queer in the house masquerading as a dog.” 

“I… I guess. Do you think that would work? Though — Dumbledore doesn’t know. You could get sent to Azkaban for being an illegal Animagus.”

Sirius rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Every time he thought they had found a solution, there was some fatal flaw.

“We could just not tell him. About the Animagus thing. Say I’m going to stay inside all the time, only go out at night. It’s not like anyone’s going to visit us.” He would be forced to continue looking over his shoulder constantly but — well, he’d done it for three years now, what was a few more?

Remus looked worried, but nodded. “I… I guess. Alright.” He finished the last of his tea and set the mug down with a sense of finality. “I’ll live with you. But if I’m making it too hard or endangering Harry, you have to—”

“Shut up, Moony,” Sirius said, cutting him off. “You won’t. Come on, we’ve got to pack.”

 

Packing was not a success.

“Padfoot, you’re going to black out from the pain, go to St Mungo’s. We don’t have to pack right this second.” Remus put his hand on Sirius's shoulder and Sirius swayed slightly. He had been doing his best to think of anything but the fact that his vision whited out slightly every time he bent over to put something in a box, but the pain had become progressively worse. He remembered Mad-Eye saying something about broken ribs being most dangerous if the lower ones punctured the spleen or the liver, but his entire side felt like it was on fire, so he had no way of knowing which one was broken. Attempting to pack had probably been a mistake.

“Fine, okay, I’ll — shit I’m not sure I can drive,” he said. “Was gonna just sweet-talk Madam Pomfrey into treating me so I didn’t have to pay Healer bills.” 

Remus rolled his eyes and took the tin of Floo powder off the mantle and offered it to him. “Go on, I’ll pack some essentials and follow you.”

Sirius threw a pinch of powder into the fire and said, “Hogwarts hospital wing,” before stepping in. He stumbled as he exited and he only had to wait about two seconds after he coughed and then swore in quick succession before Madam Pomfrey was on him. 

“What on earth are you doing, Mr. Black,” she said, storming over. “It is after curfew and students are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was. I, uh, I think I have a broken rib? Is there any chance you could do something about that?”

Madam Pomfrey muttered something that Sirius suspected was uncomplimentary but waved him over to a free bed, lowering it with her wand as he hissed with pain trying to lie down. She drew the curtain once he was settled, saving him from the curious-eyed Hufflepuff two beds over. “How did you manage this then?” she asked, her wand glowing yellow as she waved it over him. “Lift your shirt up for me,” she murmured, and when Sirius complied she tutted at him. “Come on, how did this happen? It’s definitely broken, and — what did you do, cartwheels afterwards?”

“I tried to pack up my house, actually, not cartwheels. I was kicked repeatedly in the ribs with extreme prejudice.”

“Death Eaters?” said Madam Pomfrey quietly, her face showing horror instead of disapproval for the first time. 

Sirius laughed, jostled his rib, swore and then tried not to be amused at all ever again.

There was a _woosh_ that indicated Remus had arrived. Madam Pomfrey stuck her head outside the curtain to check who it was and Sirius could feel her eyeroll, even though he had no way of seeing it. “Of course you’re here, come on, are you hurt too?” he heard her say.

“No, no, just here for Sirius,” Remus said, and followed her back to Sirius's bedside. As soon as he saw the swollen red and purple mess that Sirius was still holding his shirt up to expose, he took in a sharp breath and his face crumpled slightly. He had been grinning on the way in, no doubt from Madam Pomfrey’s reaction, but now he just looked guilty and in pain.

“I’ll check you over later,” Madam Pomfrey said, ignoring his words (probably wise, Sirius thought — he never came back _healthier_ from Dumbledore’s missions). Turning back to Sirius, she said, “Were there any curses involved?”

“No, none,” Sirius said, biting back a torrent of filthy words as she prodded at the site with her wand gently. “Just a shoe. When did you upgrade to bovver boots, eh, Moony?”

Remus looked a bit like he was going to cry. “I didn’t, they’re just — I only own one pair of shoes, they’re not even boots.”

Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows rose, and Sirius said, “It’s okay, he thought I was a murderer at the time, I would’ve done the same in his place.”

Remus collapsed into the chair next to the bed and put his head in his hands. The hitching breaths gave away the fact that he was now definitely crying. Madam Pomfrey considered for a moment and then apparently decided the whole thing was not worth pursuing.

“Right. I’ll be able to fix the bone, and I can give you something to ease the swelling but you probably want to stay here overnight to give it a chance to settle. You’ll be sore for at least a fortnight.” 

She left to go get whatever potions and creams Sirius needed and Sirius called after her, “You’re an angel!” before remembering it was eleven o’clock and shouting more quietly, “Sorry!”

There was a watery laugh from Remus’ direction. 

Madam Pomfrey returned with two bottles and a tin of cream. “This is for now — drink the whole thing, don’t spit it back up, I remember you, Black, you’re terrible at taking things. This one you take two teaspoons before you go to bed. And the cream you should rub in before you go to bed as well, but for the first few days you might want to get someone else to do it, it’ll be painful.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows at Remus, who nodded, and Sirius considered that confirmation that he had the ‘someone else’ spot filled. He absolutely did cough at the first swig of the potion, which was disgusting, but the sheer power of Madam Pomfrey glaring at him meant he managed to keep it all down.

“Can you teach me that one?” Remus said. “He actually vomited up a panadol tablet when I tried to make him take one once. He's a disaster.”

“Don't think I’ve forgotten you, Mr. Lupin. You aren't a good patient either, always far too eager to leave. Come on, I'll check you over.”

She led Remus away, ignoring his protests, and Sirius fell asleep as the pain in his side finally ebbed.


	5. these first few desperate hours

“I’m sorry for leaving you with Harry all night with no warning,” Sirius said when he opened the door to Hagrid’s hut, offering him one of the plates he had stacked high with food from the kitchens. “I didn’t think, and then we had to go to the hospital wing — don’t worry!” he reassured at the look on Hagrid’s face. He really had to stop making it sound like something had happened. “It’s fine, there was just a misunderstanding that led to a broken rib, you know how it is. Madam Pomfrey kept me there overnight as some kind of punishment, I suspect.”

“Harry only woke up about twenty minutes ago, so yer fine.” He gestured to the wall where he had set up a cot: in front of it, Harry seemed to be playing a very intense game with the cat that mostly consisted of trying to run until he fell over, at which point the cat would pounce very gently. Then he would get up and the game would start again. “They’ve been doin’ that for the last fifteen minutes, I reckon.”

Sirius knew he should get Harry to eat breakfast but instead he watched the game, Harry’s shrieks of laughter doing almost as much for him as the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him. Occasionally, Harry would pause in mid-step, apparently distracted, though Sirius could never see what he was looking at. The world was very large and Hagrid’s hut was very new and fifteen-month-old babies seemed to be curious about everything. At last, Harry barrelled into his legs and reached his hands up, babbling mostly nonsense. 

Two hours later, he had fed both Harry and himself and was desperately wishing he could have a shower. He couldn’t, primarily because he was reading _Goodnight Ghoul_ for the fourth time. Every time he shut the book and proclaimed the end, Harry began to cry, so he had to start from the beginning. 

“But Mildred thought the ghoul was just looking for a friend,” he said, trying to look animated even though he was sick to death of Mildred and her weird fascination with her household pest already. “Thank God,” he muttered as there was a knock at the door. Hagrid was tending the pumpkins, so he had an excuse to get up. Harry, of course, began to cry again, but he felt he could deal with that in a few minutes, if only he could have a reprieve from Mildred.

Remus was standing at the door with his suitcase, looking a little better than yesterday. “I’ve cleaned out the house but I haven’t broken the lease, just in case.” Sirius felt, irrationally, that finally there was someone at the helm of HMS Sirius Black — at school, Remus had always been the one who remembered deadlines and homework, even if the actual work was mostly shouldered by Sirius and James. As long as he had Remus by his side to make it all feel less overwhelming, he could do the complicated things, like the Charms work he had realised would be a lot more intricate than he thought when he was finally able to look at the books the previous afternoon.

“You’re the bollocks, Moony, I can’t thank you enough. Hey, Harry, you remember Moony? He’s going to live with us.” He picked up Harry, who was still crying, and managed to narrowly avoid a fist to the face. Harry kicked him in the side and he gasped and nearly dropped him. “C’mon, mate, don’t be like that,” he said as he gave up and put him down. Harry seemed to give up on the hope of more Mildred and went to terrorise the cat instead.

“We’ve also inherited Minnie, she’s around here somewhere. I think she and Snuffles are currently engaged in a cold war, so I’d also watch out for that heating up. She was always a bit standoffish around you, wasn’t she?” 

Remus pulled a face. “I think she knows I’ll bite back. All the boxes are in here,” he said, lifting the suitcase slightly, “but it looks… exactly as small as I remember it being in here. Where are you sleeping?”

“I slept in a classroom the first night, then in the hospital wing. I’ve planned out the spells to put in the extension, you can check over them if you like? You can put the suitcase anywhere for now,” Sirius said, waving his hand.

“Me? Don’t know I’ll be much help, you got much higher marks in Charms than I did,” Remus said, putting the suitcase against the wall. Sirius hadn’t been imagining it, he thought — there was more colour in his cheeks and the cut across his cheek looked less angry.

“Nah, it’s the second pair of eyes that matters. Remember how many times we had to check each other’s work for the map?” Glancing to make sure Harry wasn’t in danger (he was waving a stuffed hippogriff at the cat, who had escaped to the dresser Harry couldn’t reach), Sirius pulled out the books and parchment he had worked off yesterday while Harry was napping.

“If you're worried we could ask Professor Flitwick about it?”

“... Nah. Gotta leave some mystery. I've marked the references I used if you want to check them, and then this afternoon you or Hagrid can go to Diagon Alley and get the materials? You can have my Gringotts key if you like, I don’t want to use Prongs’, you know? We should leave all of it for Harry, whatever he wants to do with it. I think I should probably keep lying low, I’m more of a target than you — but if we can impose on Hagrid even more, he’d be safest.”

Remus nodded and Sirius played with Harry while he checked the spellwork. At first he built towers of blocks (actually turnips he had transfigured into more easily-stackable shapes) and Harry took great delight in knocking them down, but then Harry decided what he really wanted was a hug, and for that hug to continue forever. Sirius felt that the feeling of a toddler nestled against his chest (warm, safe, full of love) was definitely a fair trade for the use of both his arms. Arms were overrated, he’d always said it.

“It looks good, I think, except I’m not sure how we’re going to — hang on, I’ll draw you a diagram,” Remus said, and Sirius wandered over with Harry in his arms. He had fallen asleep, but Sirius didn’t want to put him down. Remus sketched out his problem, and with many arrows and interruptions, they managed to correct Sirius's error — he had forgotten to put spells in to stop the extra space leaking through the doorway.

Soon after Remus had left to buy materials (Hagrid was in the Forbidden Forest: the centaurs had wanted to show him something), Dumbledore knocked on the door. Sirius reluctantly put Harry back in his cot so he had his arms free. As the war progressed he had become less trusting of Dumbledore even as he had put his life in Dumbledore’s hands far more often than ever before — he was no longer the twinkly-eyed headmaster who occasionally appeared solely to argue with Professor McGonagall to get them out of a detention, but the mysterious leader of a secret society who always seemed to know more than he let on. And while knowing more than he let on was a perfectly acceptable trait in a headmaster, Sirius found it… unnerving, to say the least, in a man he was trusting with everything he held dear. Not to mention the fact that he had failed to keep the Potters safe, but had felt completely qualified to disregard their surviving legal documents.

So Sirius knew where his wand was when he opened the door.

Dumbledore stepped in all smiles. “Has Remus gone out?” No one, to Sirius's knowledge, had told Dumbledore that Remus was at Hogwarts. 

“Yes,” Sirius said. He knew Dumbledore was looking for more information, but didn’t really want to give it.

“Ah, I’m sure I can discuss this with you and we can wait for Remus’ return if need be,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the cold reception Sirius was giving him. He sat at the table and looked up at Sirius, who was still standing. “I think this conversation would go best with a spot of tea. I don’t know about you, but my teeth are not always up to doing battle with Hagrid’s rock cakes, as delicious as they are, so I brought biscuits.” He pulled a tin out of one of his pockets and set it on the table before opening it and taking one of the shortbread inside.

Sirius put the kettle on because apparently despite the end of the war, he was still at Dumbledore’s beck and call.

When he had sat back down with a teapot and mugs, Dumbledore began. “I’m sure your appearance at the castle is already the subject of much gossip, particularly your late-night appearance at the hospital wing for those privy to it. If it is to be a longer-term arrangement, however, a story should be agreed upon for Harry’s safety and the ease of explanation, which I will no doubt have to do.”

On this, at least, Sirius felt like he could hold his own. “Remus and I were thinking that I could stay inside and he pose as a Ministry researcher, probably studying the Forbidden Forest. That would explain the location, and nobody knows everything that’s in there, so it seems perfectly reasonable for someone to study it. Remus was tragically widowed in the war, leaving him alone with a small son that he has to take to this research posting because no one else can care for him.”

“You’ve thought this through already,” Dumbledore said, sounding faintly impressed, and Sirius tried to resist the impulse to feel pleased. 

“We talked about it last night.”

“Are you sure you could stay hidden? We don’t know how long it will be until Harry is safe to leave the grounds.”

“I don't think I've got much choice. Did you give James back his cloak? Last I heard, Lily said you had it. Would make things easier.”

“I do,” Dumbledore said with some reluctance. “I would like to keep it for a bit longer, however. There are still theories I need to follow up.”

“Theories?”

“Just my own curiosity, if you'll indulge an old man.”

Sirius knew he had no choice. “I promise I would never—” never put Harry in danger? He had already done that by suggesting Wormtail as the Secret-Keeper. “Until you're done with the cloak, I won't leave the hut, I swear. Nothing is more important to me than Harry's safety and happiness.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. I'm sure we can arrange for employment records from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to add some verisimilitude.”

They drank the rest of their tea in silence. Minnie deposited a dead mouse at Sirius's feet before gracefully leaping into Harry's cot and curling up next to him. “Minnie,” Sirius said reproachfully as he picked the mouse up by the tail and put it outside. 

“Minnie?” Dumbledore said, and Sirius's heart sank. For the first time, he regretted supporting James's campaign to name her. 

“Prongs—it was James's idea. Please don't tell Professor McGonagall.” For much of school, Sirius had the impression that Professor McGonagall had always tempered her frustrations at their insolence and rule-breaking with the undeniable fact that they were excellent at their schoolwork. He had never disliked her as he had Professor Slughorn, who seemed to be entirely too concerned with family connections and influence, or Professor Vector, who was far too keen to give them detention at every possible opportunity. He thought the cat’s name was hilarious, but he didn’t want to _offend_ her.

Remus’s inopportune return meant Sirius never got a response from Dumbledore. He looked surprised to see Dumbledore, but shook his hand once he had put the suitcase down. “Is there something you needed, sir?”

“I merely wanted to establish the cover stories that you and Mr. Black will be using while on Hogwarts grounds,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “I can see you have already discussed them, and it seems largely to be all settled. I will see if I can use some contacts at the Ministry to get you paperwork for your research position. The only part of the plan that I am concerned about is Sirius remaining inside for however long it is until it is safe.”

Remus glanced at Sirius before saying, “I trust Sirius, sir.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then I shall disturb you no longer, gentlemen. You know where to find me.”

Sirius let out a breath of relief when the door closed. The emotions currently warring in him about Remus’ declaration of trust were too complicated, so he put a lid on them and decided to ignore them, possibly forever.

“Right, shall we get started with the spellwork then?”

Expanding the inside of the hut was simple enough, once they had the theory down: it involved a lot of spellwork, but no manual labour, because the spell simply replicated the existing wall materials. It was building the internal walls that took up most of their time. Harry had woken up by that point, and had refused to remain in his cot without ear-splitting shrieks, so he was wandering around and getting underfoot. After a break for lunch, during which Sirius had to eat with one hand because Harry demanded cuddles, they surveyed their work: the hut was much larger on the inside and they had erected the walls, but still had to plaster them and put the doors in. 

They had decided on three small bedrooms (Harry’s was slightly larger than Remus’s or Sirius’s) and a large common area with a fireplace, a sofa and a dining table. Sirius was particularly proud of the nifty bit of magic he had to do so that the chimney above the fireplace would be placed in such a way that it occupied the same space as the existing chimney when you were looking from the outside. The whole thing was only temporary, after all: one day they would be able to live normal lives, whatever a normal life was. They would deal with the dilemma that neither of them had ever lived in peacetime when they came to that.

“Do you like your new place, Harry?” Sirius said, holding him up and spinning him around slowly. He felt the kind of good ache you feel after satisfying exercise — using magic to create something good and useful and unrelated to the war felt like getting the opportunity to stretch a cramped limb. Harry did not appear overly impressed, but Sirius hadn’t expected him to. 

The doors were simple enough to do by magic, but after several disastrous attempts to apply plaster by magic, they decided it would be less trouble to do it by hand. (The first time, they had had to concentrate an exhausting amount to keep the trowel under control and had retreated for a cup of tea and a regroup after only a square metre of wall. The second had resulted in wildly uneven coverage after foregoing the trowel. They agreed never to speak of the third again, but Sirius kept finding globs of plaster in his hair for days.)

Once they had both got the hang of the technique, they made decent time. They applied all the plaster in each room before doing a drying spell, and no matter how much they tried to keep Harry away from the walls, when it was done they kept finding tiny fingerprints two feet off the ground. 

It was only after they had eaten dinner, absolutely exhausted despite the fairly early hour, that they realised they had no beds. While it was certainly appealing to just curl up on the floor with some of Hagrid’s spare blankets, they used the last of their energy to transfigure two of his dining chairs instead and fell asleep as soon as they were horizontal.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to chat, I'm [facingthenorthwind on hpft](http://hpfanfictalk.com/profile/413-facingthenorthwind/) and also facingthenorthwind on tumblr. <3


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